WH40k: Hydra
by DodgeStreaker
Summary: Very few have seen his face and the few who have consider themselves blessed for being chosen, though this has lead to the many questions if he truly exists. While others ponder more on the question of, two? - Disclaimer: Warhammer 40k (c) Games Workshop


**A/N: Oh look, there's even a bit of cliché in this one when it comes to gossiping. I'm trying out different things for writing to see how I like them and how well they do or don't mix in with my regular style of writing, which is generally a lot of action, imgary and stuff with very little to no dialogue at most. So, just trying to mix it up a bit as I get back into writing.**

* * *

Throughout the narrow space of the ship's compact corridors, the near tangible sense of lingering murmurs floated around in the cool air. Its presence was almost like frost pressed against the surface of a glass window, with its desperate attempts at trying to invade the structure's interior, but left unable to as it failed to find an entrance in the non-existent gaps of the flawless design. Only able to leave behind its chilly breath as it began to crystallize its own existence, but even that wasn't enough to solidify that it was really there.

The whispers continued without a reason to be hushed, their soft voices were accompanied by the faint shuffling of heavy boots as they pattered along. And though it resembled the regular routes and uniformed formalities of a routine patrol sequence, the avoidance of what was considered to be 'citizens' aboard the ship was clear; at least to their fellow Battle-Brothers it was. All around were similar faces hidden behind identical helmets, though they all carried their own distinguishing features they were still corresponding enough to match one another's. Truly, it was a wonder to all on how the Gene-Seed growing within their chests worked, how well the very blood of their Primarch coursed through their veins without even a sign of rejection.

Like the blessing of even having their Primarch wasn't enough, the speculation was _intoxicating._

Though their tones and praises were silenced at the first sight of mortals, their Vox chatter even cutting out abruptly at the passing of the unwelcomed spectators. So they stood unnerved as sentries should, mute and looming, completely immobile to the more human eye. Even the rising of their breastplates had stopped accordingly as they willed their breathing down, shallowing their breaths by taking in less air in turn to having less movement. And they listened as statues should.

Not like they much enjoyed the conversations that these mortals had, their gossiping nature was a mere indication of their lower born blood. Why were they even here if all they do in their 'free time' is talk and spread falsehoods? To simply put it, they're just worms aboard this grand vessel, like poor dirty peasants who walk among knights and demigods like they all have the same right to. It was a crude yet accurate analogy. What even gave them the _right_ to even _think_ that they had the same _honor_ to walk the same halls that Primarchs did? Perhaps they're just too daft to understand that they don't _belong_ here...

And to think some even **dare** to speak ill of the Primarchs when they're rejected an audience with them? These mortals, they're not fit to reside among the sons of the Emperor! They're nothing more than wasted bags of flesh if they do not wish to even fight in the name of the Imperium! Whatever their purpose is, it obviously does not compare to that of the soldiers aboard this ambitious fleet! But regardless of their own opinions of these lowlifes, they had not been permitted by their Lord to take action against them.

So instead, they _listened._

* * *

"Have you heard?" The question itself was rhetorical, but even then it still raised a curious brow from the listener. The phrase always brought out the most inquisitive side of people, whether they wanted to admit it or not.

"Heard what?" Her companion asked, a fellow Remembrancer, one who often carried a picter with him and was even bold enough to take a few snaps of the Astartes and Imperial officers who happened to walk into the view of his lense. Bold, stubborn and most definitely without remorse as long as it were to get him an excellent shot to send back to Terra for publishing. Though sometimes she worried that one day his daringness would get him in trouble.

"Well, I've been hearing something about the Primarch lately. Some say he's not even real while others say there's _two_ of him." Her friend just gave her a look, one that seemed to be a mixture of surprise and concern to what she had just said. He shook his head in disbelief.

"Clearly you being away from Terra this long has caused you to become senile and believe in _superstitions_ ," he responded; his tone was a bit weary as he eyed around, catching sight of the Astartes that stood guard within the passageways that they walked. Never was he a man who was fond of silence and solitude, and the way each of the Imperium's super soldiers aboard this vessel just stood like lifeless suits of armour placed around at seemingly random intervals didn't help his already developed paranoia. "You saying and even believing such things is like saying Horus isn't the Warmaster! And besides, how would that even be possible? Perhaps he's like Primarch Mortarion who doesn't much care for social environments. But **two** of him? Now that's where I think you've finally hit rock bottom with your sanity."

"I'm being serious!"

"Look, even if it were true-which there's no way it could be-we don't have a way to prove it. So your point is invalid either way." She sighed at his answer. He was right, there was no way to prove such a preposterous idea. But then, _why...?_

"Alright, you got me there. But then why do they call him ' _Hydra_ '?"

* * *

Near silently tapping his ceramite boot against the smooth polished floor of the empty room, Alpharius waited. Drumming his gauntleted fingers against the arm of his chair in perfect rhythm with his taps. Shifting slightly, he checked for the time, only twenty minutes had passed since he had first arrived here. Twenty minutes since he had sent his unknown twin, Omegon, out on a task. A third of an hour of waiting for his brother's return so that they may switch places once more.

When it came to Omegon, there was only thoughts of relief and safety, and he knew that his twin was the only one he could truly trust with anything. After all, they were the same person, they shared the same soul. Who could possibly _fathom_ a connection like that? No one aside from them could even _try._

"Well? Is it done?" The rhythm of his tapping had ceased when the door to the plain room had opened and a face akin to his own was revealed when the newcomer had entered. Omegon just looked at him and then cautiously around the enclosed space before he nodded. A grin played at Alpharius' lips.

"He never suspected a thing."


End file.
